XVIII—Cassandra Constantine of Florencia

Cassandra marveled at the front entrance of the House of Gates as her family came up behind her. They had ridden with the Scyros side of the family in a multi-carriage trip.

“It’s beautiful,” Cassandra said. “Is it not, aunt Hecate?”

Though the other woman was her aunt, Hecate wasn’t much older than Cassandra, at just twenty-two. She was the much younger sibling of her mother—now also a Constantine.

“I’ve been here before,” Hecate said.

The two were more like sisters, albeit, sisters that often needed space from one another. If truth be told, it was Hecate who often needed space from Cassandra. She was a dreaming girl of twenty, Hecate finding her to be rather irritating at times.

Cassandra thought that was funny, and sometimes that made her sad. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t want to be away from her aunt for very long. At least for Cassandra’s part, she was close to her aunt.

“When did you come last?”

Hecate looked at her. She wore all black. With her dark eyes and black hair, others often called her Lady Raven. Weather that was disparaging or simply a name others had taken to calling her during the war, Cassandra didn’t know.

Cassandra had personally followed the path of the swords. Even now she wore high boots with armored plates, short shorts with lace. On her lower abdomen she wore a corset where her chest plate did not cover, which from that hung a half cape cut at the center for riding.

“Two years ago,” Hecate said in answer to Cassandra’s question. “My father was on an adventuring mission.”

“Oh,” Cassandra said, feeling intensely curious about that. As of yet, she still hadn’t fought in any battles against the Florencians and she had only been on very limited adventures. “Was it a success?”

“Indeed.”

“What was this adventure about?”

“Monster hunting.”

“What kind of monsters—“

“Enough, child,” Hecate said. “I will tell you another time. But that time is not now.”

Hecate looked up at the House of Gates, at the multiple stories. They went high enough to make them both crane their necks. The windows were ornamental, and on the outer face were carved bricks and ornamental eves with gargoyles.

Cassandra wanted to explore the gardens and the other grounds. For some reason she thought the interior of the House of Gates would be the most wonderful, and she hated exploring the lesser things last.

She wandered off through the ornamental shrubs under the lights cast by the lamp polls. In the gardens were hundreds of partygoers, some of which were playing games. Children ran about screaming while others dined or walked in pairs.

This did not feel like a parley, but rather a garden party.

And inside there’s supposed to be a ball with dancing, and then later fireworks!

That was what her parents had said inside the carriage ride there.

As she walked on the graveled path, she found a man looking out over a beautiful pond. At its center a fountain of marble carved in the likeness of a beautiful woman without clothes spit water from her hands.

Cassandra almost blushed. She wasn’t used to seeing things like that. Fortunately, the statue wasn’t a man. Though further off in some other areas she could see that there were male statues.

She glanced at the man in the blue jacket and found herself rather perplexed. His clothes were… in tatters.

He turned and she gasped.

“Did I frighten you?”

Cassandra shook her head. She had been expected to be frightened from this man, but his countenance was very handsome, his hair silky and shinning in the lamplight. He also carried an air of friendless.

His smile did not diminish this aspect about him.

“What are you doing in the gardens on your own? As you can see”—he gestured—“many bring their families or sweethearts along for a walk, and yet you come alone.”

“I was… I was exploring. I wanted to see them.”

“Ah,” he said. “This is your first time to the House of Gates.”

“Yes,” she said, feeling somewhat nervous around this man. His boots were worn, but well taken care of, and his trousers and shirt were crisp and white, and yet his jacket looked like he had been attacked.

“Do you wonder about my clothes?” he asked.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I did not mean to presume anything—“

“No,” he said, interrupting. “It is quite all right. Many that do not know of me wonder after such things.” He smiled, that smile carrying an enigma he did not comment on.

Suddenly moving his hands about in a strange dancing fashion, he revealed a bright luminescent flower that sparkled in the night.

Cassandra gasped.

“For you, lovely maiden.” He gestured for her to take it.

She reached forward tentatively and took the gift he had offered.

“Cherish this gift I give you, for it is not long for this world.”

“Thank you.”

“What is your name, child?”

“I’m Cassandra.”

He looked at her funny.

“Oh, uh—of Constantine.”

“Ah,” he said with a smile. “The Constantines. I know of your house. May good fortune find you and yours.”

“Thank you,” she said, her heart beating a little faster. “And… what is your name?”

“I am Papero Braigo.”

She gasped. “I’ve heard of you.”

“I am not surprised.”

“They call you the Knight Vega—er—I mean…”

“The Knight Vagabond,” he said, chuckling musically. “Indeed. Do not be afraid to use the title. It is well earned, as you can see.” He gestured to his coat.

“Are you not also a duke?”

He raised an eyebrow. “That I am, child.”

Feeling emboldened by his good nature, she asked, “And is it not true that you—“

“Cassandra!”

“Oh,” Papero said, his eyes flicking above Cassandra’s shoulder.

She turned. It was Hacate.

“What are you doing? Come.” She motioned with her hand.

“I am sorry, my lord duke,” Cassandra said. “I must leave you now. My aunt…”

“Aunt?” he asked, his eyebrow rising again.

“Yes,” she said. With a smile she turned and joined her aunt, who took her back toward the House of Gates, where they would surely get settled in their chambers and then join the ball.

A large part of her wanted to wander back outside and speak to Lord Duke Braigo. He was so handsome.

And intriguing!